


The Sweetness of the Poisoned Fruit

by tuvokholdmyhandchallenge



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Drugged Sex, M/M, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Somnophilia, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Kisses, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuvokholdmyhandchallenge/pseuds/tuvokholdmyhandchallenge
Summary: Mirror Kirk got his grubby little power-hungry hands on a sleeping powder specific to Vulcan physiology. With this, he can finally, truly win against, tame, and take his stoic first officer.
Relationships: Mirror James T. Kirk/Mirror Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	The Sweetness of the Poisoned Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> read and heed the tags, motherfuckers. NC17.  
> I'm looking at you, under-aged teens reading kinky shit because it's your only way to rebel. This is not for you. Trust me, it's just gonna make you need therapy later.

Spock was so beautiful like this: unguarded, without tension between his brows or the put-upon blank expression that could pair with his cruelest acts. He looked open and soft, and it made Kirk’s heart thud in his chest. He took a moment to consider how easy it would be to kill Spock right here: defenseless as a baby animal, he could choke him, stab him, put his disruptor in his mouth and pull the trigger and there would be no resistance. The thought made Kirk’s cock throb and he pressed the heel of his palm to his uniform trousers, willing himself to be patient. He had all the time in the world, no need to rush anything tonight. Kirk removed the glass from Spock’s now-limp hand and set it aside, running two reverent fingers down his sharp cheekbone to rest on his warm lips.

Spock had swallowed the beverage without any hesitation. It had taken Kirk months of patiently building up something similar to familiarity with his first officer to get here: months of giving untainted drinks, allowing Spock to test them thoroughly with his tricorder and drinking anything Spock declined himself. Finally, last week, Spock had accepted the beverage Kirk handed to him and began sipping on it without running any sort of test on it.

Kirk was ecstatic, though at the time he’d turned away and hid his pleased expression by setting up the chessboard and storing the case away. His plan was finally coming to fruition. He’d first gotten the idea on Tantera III just a few months ago, after hearing in the market about a drug that put Vulcans quite soundly to sleep. He’d acquired a decent quantity of it, as much as he could find on the salesman’s body, actually, and been brainstorming ways to make use of it. He had various other means of controlling his first officer, of course, but this extra little precaution made him feel a bit giddy.

Tonight, he’d placed just a bit of the translucent powder in the drink. Unfortunately, Kirk had killed the salesman before he’d gotten information on dosing, but his research indicated that a quarter teaspoon should be sufficient. It was odorless, nearly tasteless, and guaranteed to put a Vulcan down for several hours without risking his permanent health. (After all, Spock was a fairly decent first officer and Kirk would hate for one night of play to disrupt the ISS Enterprise’s crew any more than normal turnover1.)

He hefted Spock up, staggered a bit under his unexpected weight, and pulled him over to the bed, where he deposited him on the sheets. Spock made a snuffling noise and scrunched his nose up for a moment at the less-than-gentle handling and Kirk ignored the mild burning sensation in his chest. (He’d likely eaten something unpleasant earlier, of course.)

Kirk’s hands found their way to Spock’s abdomen, tugging at the fabric of his sash. The gold fabric came undone with minimal resistance and Kirk left it under Spock’s waist. He removed the dagger off his right hip as well, though that was placed on the floor, out of reach if he had to maneuver, or in case Spock somehow woke up. (The thought had crossed Kirk’s mind, sent a dual shiver of lust and danger through his gut, but he was sure of the doses he’d used.) The fastener of his first officer’s tunic was easy to undo. Rolling him enough to get his arms out of the long sleeves took a little more effort, but Kirk took the time to admire Spock’s ears on each side, brush his fingertips over them, scrape a nail down the edge and feel Spock’s breath hitch both times. It was intoxicating.

Once Spock’s tunic was removed and only his black undershirt remained, Kirk wasted no time peeling that up as well, feeling the smooth, body-warm fabric slide up his chest. Spock’s lithe body was revealed inch by inch, with Kirk drinking in the jut of his hip bones, the pale skin with various scars stretched across his frame. Each one had a story, proof that Spock was hard to take down and even harder to tame. Unbelievable that Kirk had managed to do both, finally. (The specifics and longevity of this “taming” were irrelevant at the moment.)

Kirk ran his lips over one of the scars, next to his hip, appreciating the rough texture. It looked like a stab wound, healed over with a slight green sheen around it. He kissed his way up and across Spock’s chest to one of his nipples and blew on it gently, watching with pleasure as it hardened into an enticing nub. He laved it with his tongue, caught his thumb on the opposite one, and glanced up at Spock’s face. The man’s head had rolled back and Kirk smirked to himself as he felt the chest under him shudder in a breath. It was such a stunning image, Kirk nearly stopped to capture the moment with something. But he had plenty of time.

Spock looked absolutely sinful in sleep, his shirt bunched up at his armpits, chest on display. His pants put up no resistance as Kirk unfastened them and let them fall open at the groin. Kirk felt the superiority, the power over his first officer, surge in his gut. The man was always in control; even when bending to Kirk’s wishes there was a permanent gleam of repressed wildness in his black eyes. Kirk wished he could see those eyes now, knowing that his captain had won once again, had utterly outwitted him. The thought sent a pulse of heat through Kirk’s cock.

He stroked over the front of Spock’s surprisingly silky black briefs, felt him start to harden under his attention. A thrill raced down his spine as he repeated the motion with the same effect. Were the tables turned, would Spock treat this as an experiment? Would he catalog the different reactions?

Kirk tucked a thumb under the briefs’ waistband, brushing over the dark trail of hair, edging down toward his prize. It was tantalizing, and Kirk couldn’t remember being this excited to unwrap a present since his 11th birthday, when his father had given him his first disruptor. The primal feeling of power was the same, the dark, sharp satisfaction rolling in his chest.

He scratched lightly over the skin there, not aiming to leave any marks quite yet, and gave in to the urge to lean up and kiss Spock’s smooth lips. They were slack, pliant, and burned against Kirk’s. He deepened the kiss, coaxing Spock’s mouth open and licking inside, tasting the spicy tea he’d just finished and an odd, smooth flavor that he likely should not have enjoyed as much as he did. Kirk filed away the taste for future contemplation as he continued rubbing Spock through the silky fabric, feeling him twitch and grow and _move_ -

“Mmm-what the fuck?” Kirk pulled away from Spock’s lips to look down at the shape outlined in Spock’s briefs: a shape completely unfamiliar to Kirk. The realization sent a pang of heat through Kirk so intense that he nearly doubled over. He squeezed the mysterious bulge and felt Spock’s answering sigh over his skin.

This was better than he could have ever dreamed. He slid back down Spock’s body, stopping to drop twin kisses to Spock’s nipples along the way just because he could, and framed Spock’s- whatever it was, with both hands when he finally arrived. He squeezed in lightly from the sides and watched as the silhouette responded with a gentle pulsing. Kirk didn’t think he could get more excited if he tried. His own cock, previously very interested but not quite desperate, was pressed against his uniform pants so hard that he feared for the integrity of the seams.

“Mr. Spock, what _have_ you been hiding from me?” Kirk was not famous for his patience, but tonight he could make an exception. He moved in, breathed deep the heady scent of Spock’s sex, and dared to nuzzle his nose against the cloth. The skin underneath was dry, apparently, and felt just as hot as his lips. It reacted like an enthusiastic little animal, pressing back against the stimulation. Kirk gasped as a ribbed texture became apparent against his cheek. If he could’ve purred, he would have. This was better than he could have ever imagined.

He glanced up at Spock’s face again, satisfied with his unconsciousness, and pressed a kiss to the place he thought was most likely the “tip.” It was squirmy and Kirk followed it, pressing a bit harder with each successive kiss until he had it captured between hands and lips. It almost felt like a struggle, play fighting with Spock’s _whatever_ as the man himself lay in drug-induced slumber, completely unaware. Kirk felt drunk with power.

Being able to savor this experience was absolutely heavenly, not that Kirk thought about heaven much. He let his fingertips edge up and tuck beneath the waistband again, tugging down and revealing his mystery treat centimeter by centimeter.

It was a deep ochre yellow to green ombre, sitting in a nest of dark, wiry hair. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before: a thick, near-conical, _moving_ length of flesh that looked, frankly, almost comical. The whole thing probably only measured 6 inches long, but it was enticingly wide- too wide to encircle with one hand at the base, and Kirk knew from experience that this particular shape would mean pleasure with every centimeter, if he were to… But he wouldn’t. That would be too much for the first night, at least.

There were no visible testicles, and Kirk coaxed it up, nudging it out of the way to make sure that was natural rather than artificial. Though there were some extra folds of tissue around the base, Kirk was pleased to discover there was no scarring. If anyone were to scar up his first officer, after all, it should be him. His grasp made the appendage perk up, flex in his grip, and- to Kirk’s absolute delight- lengthen, losing girth in favor of reaching a truly impressive length.

Kirk kissed the tip: a dual-ridged, slightly pointed helmet with something like a bulge at about the first inch. It seemed perfectly sized to suck, and wasted no time opening his mouth and taking it in, stroking over the smooth, dry flesh with his tongue, letting it roam about his mouth and stake its claim. The appendage seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to his stimulation in turn. He traced his tongue over the ridges on the underside and gasped as a tiny bit of- something- came out of the tip.

It tasted salty, musky, and slightly spiced, which was odd, but Kirk found that he loved it. He repeated the motion and started stroking as much of the rest of the appendage with his hands, enjoying the sensations immensely. He felt like he could do this all day, though his jaw might start to ache.

He released the tip from his mouth and noticed that the bulge at the tip was slightly engorged. A light squeeze between his fingers caused a full-body twitch to fun up Spock’s sleeping form.

Interesting.

Kirk pulled back and snatched the lube from where he’d tucked it into his sash, pouring maybe a little more than needed out in his excitement. He spread it over his hands and began massaging it into Spock’s fevered flesh, teasing his skin as he went.

His movements didn’t quite qualify as “jerking” but Kirk managed to build up a decent rhythm with his hand, capturing the tip back in his mouth.

It was exquisite. Kirk squeezed, sucked, and realized with a foggy thought that he’d quite lost track of time and that his own erection was still straining to the point of painful. He unfastened his uniform pants and allowed it to spring into his grasp, sighing as he did so. The vibrations made Spock’s… cock? Reach further into Kirk’s mouth. He wasn’t ready for the intrusion and backed up as quickly as he could, nipping at the head in punishment. How was it fair that even when Kirk had absolute control over Spock, he still found ways to be a little shit?

The head withdrew from his lips completely, shortening back to closer to its original shape in his hand. Kirk felt an edge of triumph roll through him and sped up on his own cock as he leaned back down to take Spock back inside.

As he enveloped Spock in his mouth, he closed his eyes just for a moment to appreciate the sensation fully.

And felt a large, hot hand grasp the back of his neck.

Kirk’s eyes flew open to see Spock, _awake_ , looking down at him with his dark, dangerous eyes just barely open. Their gazes met and held and Kirk was suddenly on fire, inside and out, mind racing with _surpriselustshockangerpleasureburningmine_. He felt the hand on his neck squeeze and gasped, feeling Spock’s length stretch in his mouth again, aiming for his throat. Kirk was ready this time and swallowed around the intrusion with another hum, even as his mind started racing with danger.

He went to pull off, but Spock held him down with his crushing Vulcan strength, even as Kirk felt his need for oxygen go from passive to immediate. He jerked back, glaring up at Spock, and let go of Spock’s cock to ball his fist and punch at Spock’s thigh even as the hand on himself sped up again.

Spock’s other hand came to Kirk’s shoulder, an almost gentle (if Kirk believed Spock held any such emotions) caress directly over the nerve Spock favored for incapacitation. Kirk jerked back again, ineffectively, and felt himself start to go lightheaded with lack of oxygen. His mind raced with possible escape routes even as he felt himself nearing orgasm. Finally, desperately, he bit down again on the intrusion and felt it recoil back into his mouth, opening his airway for a hastily inhaled breath even as he felt himself fall over the edge to completion.

He came around quickly, pushing through the post-orgasmic fog to glare up at Spock again, who was still holding him down, filling his mouth almost overfull with his flesh, still stroking over the insides of his cheeks and tongue.

“Hello, Captain.” Spock raised an eyebrow, cold and calculating. “Were you enjoying yourself?”

“Mnnnngh” was all he could manage, so Kirk reached up with his hand and grabbed Spock’s, removing the threat of a nerve-pinch and tangling their fingers together. The rush of feelings flared up again and Kirk swallowed, but refused to let go. Spock inhaled with a hitch and Kirk counted it as a win. If Spock had wanted to take him out, he would have inarguably done it without Kirk even realizing.

Oh, how the tables had turned; Kirk had gone from absolute power over his first officer through drugs to Spock holding him helpless with physical force. Kirk’s cock definitely wasn’t ready to raise again, but the thought almost made him wish it would, a jolt of heat running through him again.

Spock’s gaze was unwavering, unreadable. The rush of emotions he had felt the moment he locked eyes with him had dulled down to a steady thrum of _furyheatmine_ over and over.

Kirk honestly wasn’t sure why his subordinate had yet to kill him after finding himself in this situation, but he wasn’t going to complain. He tested the water, sucking again gently to see what happened.

Spock’s eyes widened slightly and he thrust slightly. Kirk felt the appendage lengthen slightly again, but this time felt confident in his ability to reign it in if it got too feisty.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about Spock’s genitals as a sentient being, let alone with the fondness of a trainable new pet, but…

He snuck his spare hand up to Spock’s uniform pants, where his hole should be, even as he continued his oral ministrations.

Just as Spock let out a small pleased sigh, he pressed two fingers firmly to the area just below Spock’s appendage, behind the folds of his undone pants, offering a suggestion while simultaneously squeezing his hand.

Spock cried out with pleasure as Kirk felt him begin to come, in his mind and in his mouth. It felt like a vicarious orgasm, pleasure rolling over him and cresting like waves though he knew he physically couldn’t be coming again. He swallowed repeatedly, tried to get all the fluid down before he had to let go, and Spock relaxed back into the bed after a few moments, surprisingly boneless. His hand was still entwined with Kirk’s, causing a steady flow of possessive, dark relief through his mind. His hand on Kirk’s neck relaxed and Kirk finally, finally pushed off. He grabbed the disruptor off the floor, standing over Spock’s form quickly.

Spock looked like an incredible mix of debauched and pristine, his hair unruffled but his clothing askew to reveal his entire torso, his cock relaxing and slowly retracting back down to an oddly short, stout form. Kirk’s come had ended up mostly on one of Spock’s uniform pant legs and Kirk felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight.

Spock opened his eyes, looking directly at Kirk. Unreadable again. Kirk almost missed whatever had happened when he’d held Spock’s hand, the assuredness he’d felt with Spock’s mind. For the first time since working with him, he’d _known_ that Spock wasn’t trying to kill him, despite the situation being the closest Spock had ever gotten.

“Captain.”

“…Spock.” Kirk found himself not completely sure what to say.

“Did you poison me?” The tone was neutral, almost disinterested, but Kirk felt, illogically, that he had to justify himself.

“It wasn’t poison! It was a sleeping pill, and it was supposed to last much longer than it did.”

“You appear to have miscalculated the dose.” Spock sat up and removed his uniform shirt, folding it primly and glancing around for a spot before placing it on the floor next to Kirk’s bed. He left his pants as they were.

“I did not!” Kirk found himself defensive this time, not because Spock thought he wanted to hurt him, but because apparently Spock thought he was stupid.

“That being said, I was affected. I will not return to my quarters tonight.” Spock lay back down in Kirk’s bed, tucked under the covers, and closed his eyes.

Kirk found himself once again completely lost with the situation. He had so many questions: why hadn’t the sleeping powder worked the way it was supposed to? Why had Spock woken up and kept going? Why hadn’t he tried to kill Kirk? What just happened?

Spock flipped the blanket down next to himself in invitation.

“Lay down, Captain. If you do not kill me, we have much to discuss tomorrow.”

Kirk set the disruptor on his nightstand and laid down.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record - the reason the sleeping powder wore off so quickly was twofold.  
> 1\. Spock is not fully Vulcan and his body is far more hardy toward the particular mix Kirk used, and  
> 2\. NEVER trust a street dealer. That shit was cut with space flour to double, no, triple his profit. (Anyone trying to drug a Vulcan wouldn't survive their encounter to come back and kill him, so what's the risk, you know?) But I had no way to casually slide that fact int the story, so please enjoy this meta content.


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